Gratitude
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Halfway through his sentence, Klavier gets a good look at Apollo's face, and the words die on his tongue as fast as the smile fades from his face." Klavier visits Apollo in the hospital after the courtroom bombing. Part 1 of the Apologies series. Followed by Ghosts.


Klavier thought he didn't have any expectations. It's not right to have them, after all, not when Apollo's in the hospital and injured and probably upset, wasn't he the defense in that last case for personal reasons? Klavier's been thinking this his whole way to the hospital, telling himself over and over again that he's not expecting anything, not a smile and not a kiss and nothing, nothing, Apollo could glare at him and tell him to get lost and he won't be surprised.

The front desk doesn't want to tell him where Apollo is - "family members only, sir," the girl at the front desk tells him - but one of the nurses is giving him the breathless sidelong glance that screams a Gavinners fan, and it takes very little persuasion (a smile, an autograph, a wink) to find out where he is headed. No one stops him - Klavier knows how to walk like he belongs, and even in the eye-catching purple of his jacket the staff assume he's going to see someone he's supposed to be visiting. And he is, after all, it's basically assumed that he'll be here to visit Apollo, aren't they very nearly boyfriends at this point?

There's no one at the door, no nurse on duty, which speaks to Apollo's relative health, so Klavier's not hugely worried when he pushes the door to the private room open. It'll be just him and Apollo, he can express his sincere concern and well wishes and maybe steal a kiss, maybe pull a smile from the attorney if he tries hard enough. He should at least be able to manage a blush; those are the easiest to win, all it will take is a poorly-veiled suggestion and Apollo will go cherry-red, and he's always cutest like that.

"Herr Forehead!" Klavier calls in a mock-undertone as he eases the door open. "Guess who came to see you, it was terrible, the things I went through to see -" Halfway through his sentence, he gets a good look at Apollo's face, and the words die on his tongue as fast as the smile fades from his face.

"Oh god." He steps inside the rest of the way, all teasing flirtation gone from his voice by the time he shuts the door behind him. "Apollo, what _happened_?"

Apollo isn't angry. Apollo isn't glaring at him, isn't gasping in shock or huffing in irritation. Klavier could handle any of that, that was what he was expecting by declaring he had no expectations, and those are exactly what are shattered around him, because Apollo is staring at him with no expression on his face at all. Klavier almost doesn't recognize him. It's like someone he doesn't know has stolen Apollo's face, a stranger is staring out of those dark eyes at him.

"What are you doing here?" Apollo asks, and his voice is as flat as his stare, without a trace of the fire Klavier is used to hearing.

The blond has already stopped inside the doorway; if he had anywhere to go he'd draw back at that tone. As it is he just stays still, blinks at Apollo, and without thinking honesty falls out of his mouth in response to the question. "I wanted to check on you. I was worried."

Apollo leans back against the back of his bed; he has a jacket around his shoulder, although it's warm enough in the room and Klavier's never seen the heavy blue fabric before. "I'm fine."

He doesn't sound fine. He doesn't _look_ fine, and not just the blank wall in his eyes; he's wrapped in bandages, when Klavier pauses to notice, his hands up to the elbows swathed in white and the edge of another wrapping just visible inside the collar of his shirt. "A courtroom fell on you, Apollo, you're amazing but even you -"

"I'm fine," he says again, colder and harder this time, and Klavier's throat closes up in something that is part instinctive fear and part misery. "You don't need to worry about me."

This is in clear defiance of the facts, but Klavier can't clear his throat for a minute. He looks away from the gaze Apollo still has fixed on him, swallows hard until he thinks he might be able to talk again.

"I'm sorry," he finally manages, by speaking to the floor rather than to Apollo. Rumors and half-remembered pieces of information are coming together in his mind, an overheard conversation between Athena and Phoenix and the logo on the breast of that blue jacket, and Klavier doesn't need solid evidence or even an explanation to feel the agony that's behind the other's expression. "I'm so sorry, Apollo, I didn't know."

"Know what?" Apollo asks.

Klavier doesn't look up. "How important this case was to you. I didn't...no one told me, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Apollo's voice sounds like a recording, like a bad actor reciting lines. "You didn't do anything."

"That's why I'm -" Klavier starts, looking up.

Apollo's voice is still dead but his eyes aren't anymore. They're shining with not-quite tears, Klavier can feel the punch of emotion in them like Apollo has backhanded him. His words die in his throat, his thoughts go blank, there's not even the usual flicker of warm affection he feels when he looks at Apollo; there's just the angry-tears-misery-pain in the other's eyes, sweeping everything that is Klavier away for a moment of breathless empathetic emotion.

Then Apollo looks away, out the window so he's staring into the light of the sun, and Klavier gasps a breath and turns away, fast, before he has to see that again. Once is more than enough, he's sure he is never going to forget that look on Apollo's face.

"You don't want me here," he says needlessly, facing the door. "I'm sorry. I'll go." There's no passive-aggression in his words, just sincerity; he wishes he wasn't starting to cry, he has no _right_ to cry, these should be Apollo's tears. His hand is shaking so it's hard to manage the door handle but he gets it open, is stepping out into the hall when Apollo speaks.

"Klavier."

There's a dreadful shake in his voice. Klavier doesn't turn, is absolutely sure that if he turns he will never be able to put himself back together, just from the secondhand pain that he can _hear_ shaking Apollo's shoulders and tight in his throat.

"Thank you."

Apollo doesn't sound grateful. He doesn't sound anything but raw, agonized and broken, and Klavier wishes he had the knowledge to help, even just the backstory to offer anything like enough comfort. He's not even sure what Apollo is thanking him for - for the visit, for the sympathy, for _leaving_ - but he nods, exaggerates the motion so Apollo can make it out without Klavier turning around, and steps softly out into the hallway so he can ease the door shut behind him.

He doesn't wait to hear Apollo start to cry, the wracking uncontrollable sobs of impossible anguish. He doesn't need to.


End file.
